


Hey to the Starboard

by copperbadge



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boats and Ships, Flirting, Gen, Secret Identity, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 15:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: Captain America has been recovered from the crash that everyone thought had killed him, but he's caught in the middle of some delicate twenty-first century politics, not to mention some personal negotiations with his savior and his new best friend Iron Man's boss, Tony Stark.





	Hey to the Starboard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scifigrl47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifigrl47/gifts).



> This could be considered unfinished; I wanted to archive it before it got lost in the mess of my files. 
> 
> Sci said I owed her some identity porn, and apparently I accepted her statement at face value.

"Iron Man is gonna be soooooo mad he missed this," a voice said, and Steve, faintly, registered it as female.

He hadn't really expected to register much of anything, after the crash, but he was warm and whatever he was lying on was dry and soft, so he wasn't going to complain. Maybe they'd recovered him before hypothermia could set in.

His thoughts were sluggish, and over top of them he heard a man laugh lightly. "I guess so, but he'll find out soon enough."

"He'll still be mad. Captain America's his idol. His inspiration. He's said so on all the talk shows," the woman said.

"Probably just bucking for the job, before he knew it was still taken," the man replied, still sounding amused. Steve managed to crack open dry-feeling eyes. The room was dimly lit, a mercy, and he could make out shadows in front of a low amber-colored lamp. The air tasted tinny, though that could just be his tongue.

There was a tiny woman in a yellow mechanic's jumpsuit sitting to one side of the lamp, and on the other was a man in a lab coat, with a shock of messy dark hair and his legs kicked up on the table.

"You're so mean to him," the woman said.

"I'm his boss," the man replied carelessly. "You just want to charm the helmet off him. I know you of old, Jan van Dyne."

The woman, Miss van Dyne, smiled. "You shouldn't have told me he was devastatingly handsome under it."

"You shouldn't have listened to me, I'm a well-known liar," the man said. "Heigh-ho," he added, "looks like we're seeing some increased brain activity."

He let his legs fall from the table and got to his feet, heading for Steve; given they were speaking English and didn't seem overly worried about keeping him prisoner, Steve gave up his pretense of unconsciousness and opened his eyes fully.

"Hey there, Captain," the man said, leaning over him. "Don't get up. You're still thawing out, likely to be a little unsteady for a while. I know you're probably thirsty but you're getting your fluids IV for a little while. You want some ice?"

Steve managed a nod, and a chip of wet, cold ice was placed in his mouth. He rolled it around carefully, wetting his lips and tongue.

"Where?" he managed, around the fast-melting ice.

"You're on a top-secret experimental submarine," the man said. "You're safe, you're among allies here."

Beyond him, Steve saw Miss van Dyne give the man an exasperated look.

"You found the wreck," he managed. The man's eyebrows raised.

"Well, we found you," he replied. "You either ejected or you were thrown clear, I think. We didn't find the plane. Not really vital," he added thoughtfully. "Anyway. I'm Anthony -- I'm chief engineer and the next best thing we have to a doctor. This is Janet, she's...one of our pilots."

"Nice to meet you, Captain," she said, nodding her head. "Tony, I'm going to let the others know he's up and then I should take the stick from Hawkeye."

"I'll be right back," Anthony said to him, and drew Miss van Dyne over to a doorway, down at the far end of what was actually a pretty large room, for a sub. Steve probably wouldn't have heard their hissed conversation without the Serum.

"Let them know that he's up and lucid, and I'll update them on the internal servers," Anthony said. "I don't want a crowd gawking."

"Rhodey wants in."

"I salvaged him, he's mine now."

"He's not a shipwreck."

"Well, either he's an object, in which case he's my salvage, or he's a person in need of desperate medical care, in which case he's a private citizen on a private vessel and they need a warrant."

"They won't like it."

"Rhodey'll come down on my side and I bet I can talk Carol around. Besides, they're Air Force. They can't claim him for the Air Force, he's clearly the _worst_ pilot."

Steve felt himself laugh, rustily, and their heads bobbed up.

"Super hearing," he rasped, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"You stay down, trouble," Anthony ordered. Steve let himself fall back onto the bed, relieved, because every muscle ached. "You," he said, clearly to Miss van Dyne, "Go take the stick from Hawkeye and then tell Widow I want her down here as soon as she's done whatever mystic espionage she's committing."

"Widow -- ! Oh!"

"Yeah. Once she's here I'll meet everyone else in the mess. Do not surface until you hear directly from me."

"Fine," Miss van Dyne said, sounding resigned, and there was the creak of a metal door opening and closing. Steve turned onto his side so he could see Anthony better as the man returned, pulling up a chair.

"You have put us in a sticky situation, War Hero," Anthony said. Steve frowned. "We can't get communication out while we're underwater, but as soon as we surface, I have two friends in the military who are duty-bound to report your presence to the government. For reasons of politics that are nothing for you to worry about, that's undesirable."

"What if I worry anyway?" Steve asked.

"Was that a request for more information?" Anthony said, offering him another ice chip. Steve sucked on it thoughtfully. "Let me put it this way. While you've been out, the global power structure has shifted. The government of the United States would dearly love to have found you and be the ones to bring you home, because then they could recruit you back into the government, where they feel people with...extraordinary skills belong."

"Don't they?" Steve asked.

"Ah boy, how to explain this." Anthony rubbed his forehead. "If the war were over, just how big a bomb would you want a bunch of politicians to be able to aim at whoever they think is the enemy?"

Steve considered this. "I ain't got much use for senators," he said finally.

"Good. I know you don't know me from a hole in the ground but I need you to trust me and stay put until I can smooth this out. Deal?"

Steve nodded. "Deal." He paused. Still, he'd like to know; if Anthony palled around with a guy who liked Captain America, he was probably pretty trustworthy. "Who's Iron Man?"

Anthony's face crinkled in a smile. "Heard that, did you? He's keeping the home fires burning. You'll meet him soon enough. He'll want your autograph," he warned. 

"Anything for a fan," Steve said, and Anthony's grin broadened.

"You're a picnic," he said. "Listen, someone's coming down to watch over you. She doesn't talk much, don't take it personally. Try to get some sleep. You want a knockout?"

"If you've got one you think'll work," Steve said.

"I'll do my best. It won't be long. We'll be in New York in another few hours anyway."

"How long was I out?" Steve asked, alarmed now, but Anthony was fiddling with the line going into his arm, and he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him.

"Oh, Captain, that's a conversation for when you're feeling better," Anthony said, the smile falling off his face. Steve nodded -- there wasn't much else he could do -- and stopped fighting for consciousness.

***

Three days later, Steve was sitting on the roof of a mansion in Manhattan -- Avengers mansion, sovereign land, a strange legal limbo -- when he heard a sort of muted roar. A streak of red passed through the sky, curved around, slowed, and came into focus in the distance as a man-shaped suit of cherry-red armor.

Steve had seen pictures of Iron Man. There was a painting in the mansion's ballroom, and Tony (Anthony Stark, a hard shock to be the same age now as a man who hadn't been born when Steve knew his father) had several prints of specs and color swatches in his study.

In person, though, the armor was magnificent, buffed to a high shine, sleek and touched with gold. Steve was so stunned by it he almost didn't notice it was drifting closer until it was right in front of the roof.

There was a man in the armor, supposedly. Nobody knew who it was, except presumably Tony. The man lifted an arm and touched his forehead respectfully. The request was clear -- permission to approach?

Steve summoned a smile and held up a hand, fingers curling in to gesture him closer. Iron Man's boots touched down on the edge of the roof, heedless of the six inches between himself and a fifty-foot drop.

"You must be Iron Man," Steve said. The shiny red helmet with the gold face inclined in a nod. "Do you talk?"

"You'll have to forgive me, Captain," Iron Man answered, an electric buzz overlaying the words. "I'm a little star-struck."

"At a sad lump sitting on a roof? You impress easily," Steve replied.

"You're probably out of patience with all the awe and respect right now," Iron Man said. Steve held up his thumb and forefinger, not very far apart. "Sorry. The boss probably told you I'd want an autograph."

"Got a pen?" Steve asked.

"Some other time," Iron Man said, waving it aside. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself sooner. Figured I'd wait until you'd had some time to digest what you're already dealing with."

"So you'll be back in a year or two?" Steve asked.

He couldn't tell, under the helmet, but the way Iron Man tilted his head, he seemed like he was smiling. "I can get lost, if you want."

"No, that wasn't what I meant. It's just a lot. Seventy years of a lot. And the minute I wake up I'm suddenly an international incident waiting to happen."

"Don't flatter yourself, you're barely a federal incident," Iron Man said, and Steve laughed a little, startling himself. "You didn't cause any of this. You're just bringing it to a head. The government has wanted to regulate us since I hit the scene. Making the Avengers an embassy from a nation that doesn't exist was a good compromise, but it's an ongoing negotiation."

"Well, I don't want to start a civil war."

"May I sit?"

Steve waved to the tile next to him. Iron Man eased himself down, remarkably agile given the armor.

"The tension is understandable," he said. "Nobody wants Tony Stark of all people to command his own private army."

"What's wrong with Tony?"

"Huh?"

"Of all people?" Steve asked.

"Oh -- I'll give you a rundown sometime on his personal and professional failings."

Steve frowned at him, and there was a laugh from the helmet.

"Trust me -- I'll go into less detail than he would. The boss takes a kind of pride in his...complex history. Beside the point. We know -- people like you, people like me -- that blind obedience to the government, any government, isn't going to cut it. And we can't be American anyway; then every time we get into a fight on foreign soil it's an invasion. But there has to be some kind of control on us, obviously, we need oversight or we're no better than dirty cops kicking peoples' faces in."

Steve stared out pensively at Manhattan, where he wasn't technically, legally allowed to set foot yet.

"This setup has worked for now; we are independent on sufferance. And your presence isn't breaking it, just...testing it," Iron Man continued. "This is how we learn where lines are drawn. Testing is good. Testing makes things stronger, finds the flaws."

"You sound like my friend How -- " Steve broke off. "Well, I knew a man back in the war."

"Howard Stark," Iron Man said knowingly. "Well, I am a scientist, or I was. And I knew him, a little, before he died."

"What makes a scientist strap on armor and go off to fight, I don't know, sea monsters and alien robots and such?" Steve asked.

"I owe a debt," Iron Man said. "And the pay's all right. Besides, this is science in action. Want to see?"

Steve nodded, feeling eager to see something for the first time since...arriving, really. It seemed like every new piece of information was just a body blow, but this was harmless, and beautiful, and if not normal, then at least...normal for them.

Iron Man got to his feet, bounced on his toes, and lifted off a few inches, hovering, twisting in the air.

"Well?" he said, holding out his hand.

"Well what?" Steve asked.

"Want to go joyriding? Safer than a New York cabbie and cheaper too."

Steve looked longingly at the skyline. "I can't. I'm not allowed to leave the compound yet."

"Funny, I looked into that," Iron Man said. "Technically you're not allowed to set foot on American soil. It's a legal nicety. But you are not actually banned from New York airspace. I have blanket FAA clearance, and because I sometimes carry other Avengers or play search-and-rescue, I have clearance to haul up to two passengers. So technically it's not illegal for me to take you out. Anyway who's going to see us? That is, if you want to go."

Steve looked up at him, wary now. "Why?"

"Why not? You said it yourself, you're a pretty sad lump, Captain. Unless you're chicken," Iron Man added, voice daring. Steve gave him an outraged look. Iron Man twisted to put his back to him, then bent his legs. A pair of black nylon loops popped out of the armor just below his knee joints, hanging over his ankles.

Steve stepped carefully into the loops, first one foot, then an arm around Iron Man's shoulders, then the other foot. One of the armored hands came up to hook Steve's fingers into a concealed grip in the side of his chestplate, and then he rose slowly. Steve swayed and jerked, trying to find his center of balance. After a minute or two of adjustments, his knees found the right angle to bend at and he worked out how to use his free arm to stabilize himself.

"Ready?" Iron Man asked.

"If you drop me, it's treason," Steve warned.

"If you fall off, it's worse," Iron Man replied. They were gaining speed slowly enough for Steve to compensate, and the armor was warm enough that the wind's chill didn't register as more than a mild annoyance. Steve was busy watching Manhattan fly past beneath them, bigger and shinier and colder and more forbidding than it had ever been even when it was still an entirely different city.

"You want to see Brooklyn?" Iron Man asked, as if reading his thoughts. 

"No, I wouldn't recognize it anyway," he said, the wind snatching at his voice, but Iron Man must have heard him.

"Fair. I have an idea," he said. They'd been heading southeast, but now Iron Man turned further south, heading out over the bay, bypassing Brooklyn, Jersey on the other side, and out into the bight. He angled east again and soon the glow of the coast was behind them. Steve had his face pressed against Iron Man's shoulder to keep the wind out of it, but as they slowed, he lifted his head.

The stars were wheeling above them, brighter than you could ever see from the city, brighter than Steve had seen in his life until he'd been on the battlefields of Europe, and at that point he hadn't often been in a position to appreciate them. The moon, not quite full, was over the eastern horizon. The ocean's darkness swallowed up whatever lay below. Steve felt his shoulders drop, his whole body relax in the face of such eternity.

"Honestly," Iron Man said, after a while, "it's a dumb little planet and we've messed it up, but it's still ours, and it's kinda pretty sometimes. So I think it's worth some inconvenience."

"Yeah," Steve breathed, shifting his weight to lean back, the straps creaking. "I see your point."

"It shouldn't be much longer before you're cleared for the Avengers," Iron Man continued. "Another few weeks and you can come and go like we all do. Until then, if you ever want to stretch your legs..."

"Thanks," Steve said, still looking up, picking out constellations he'd mostly known from books. "How do I find you?"

"Mr. Stark knows how to get in touch, but now that you're settled in, I'll be around more. Ask Widow to show you how to send an email."

"Widow, the woman who literally never talks?" Steve asked.

"She talks when she has something to say."

"Kinda rude, isn't it?"

"Widow used to have to spend a lot of time being nice to a lot of people she didn't like. She enjoys not having to charm anyone, and it takes her time to warm up to new people. Trust me, it'll help."

"Any other tips?" Steve asked.

"You don't strike me as someone who needs help making friends."

"Well, no. But it might be nice to learn how to stay on Tony's good side."

"Buttering up the boss?"

"Honest? I like him. I'd like to be friends but he seems like a busy fella."

Iron Man laughed. "Yeah, he is. He's not the most polite either. If you can put up with half his brain being somewhere else sometimes, you'll already be ahead of the crowd. And -- " Iron Man paused, "I'm getting some yelling over the helmet display. Jan wants to know where the hell I took you, so I'd better get you home before she comes looking. Clench up -- "

Steve just had time to press his face back down into the windbreak of Iron Man's neck before they were off, heading back towards light and noise and civilization, such as it was.

***

" _...think it's time we ask ourselves if these are the best people, not to represent the Avengers to the outside world, but to represent the outside world to the Avengers. James Rhodes is a well known crony, if I can use the word, of Tony Stark from his party-boy days. God knows what Stark holds over him. And Ms. Danvers has abnormal powers that nobody truly understands the extent of, which aren't even human in origin, they're from some...planet somewhere nobody's ever heard of. How can she speak for normal people?_ "

"Turn it off!" Hawkeye called from a deck chair, where he was trying unsuccessfully to even out his farmer's tan. "Come on man, only we get to call Carol a freak!"

"Calm down, Hawkeye," Carol ordered, from the bar next to the pool (a pool on a yacht...Steve would never understand the future) as someone on the TV responded to the talking head trying to convince the country yet again that the Avengers were a threat.

"Odd they're playing this now," Jan remarked, peering over her sunglasses at the television behind the bar. "Usually the Terrible Avengers schtick doesn't do well after we've just saved the world again."

"They aren't, this aired last week," Tony answered, emerging from belowdecks, stunning in a pair of bright yellow boat shorts, the arc reactor in his chest glowing brightly. Steve, leaning on the yacht's railing and looking out over the brilliant blue waters, enjoying the tropical warmth, turned around to take in the view more fully. Well, a fella could look.

"Then why -- " Hawkeye began. Tony held up a hand, pointed a finger gun at the television, and cocked his thumb. Just as he did, the talking-head receded into a corner window and the live newsanchor appeared.

" _Mr. Stryker's press office has issued an apology after remarks he made last week were met with outrage and protest following an Avengers action over Washington, DC yesterday,_ " she announced. " _DC residents and Avenger fans worldwide took to social media to castigate Mr. Stryker for his criticism of the Avengers, focusing on his disrespect for the two US military representatives who serve on the team._ "

Natasha, in the pool, hair slicked back and arms resting on the deck, lifted her hand and twirled it, an elegant "what a jerkoff" motion.

"You said it," Rhodey replied. "Lemme buy you a drink."

She made the jerkoff motion in the other direction. Rhodey rolled his eyes. Steve was about 95% sure they were sleeping together, mainly because whenever he made an offer and she rejected it, he went and did whatever it was he'd offered, and then she accepted it. It'd be unhealthy, Steve figured, if they didn't both know that Natasha would put him on the floor if he ever actually did anything she didn't want.

This time Rhodey ducked behind the bar and dug out a highball glass and a pitcher of the slushy fruit punch she liked. 

"What _does_ Tony hold over you, anyway?" Steve asked.

"What Tony holds over me wouldn't fill a martini glass," Rhodey replied. "Why do you think he's so well behaved and gave me a suit? It's what I hold over him."

"Nonsense, that suit was to keep your death-seeking ass intact," Tony replied. "Everyone knows I have no shame. It's the only way to avoid being blackmailed," he added to Steve. "Not caring who knows what about you."

Rhodey gave Tony a sardonic look. Steve just smiled. He was glad Tony had come; Iron Man was fun, and probably Steve's best friend, but he wasn't much on boats. Jan had suggested he could sunbathe in his helmet and a pair of Iron Man swim trunks, and Natasha had laughed out loud at the thought.

Iron Man was probably over the horizon somewhere, flying perimeter to make sure nobody bugged them. He took his bodyguard duties very seriously.

Besides, out here on the yacht was the only time Tony ever took off his shirt, and seeing Tony shirtless was a hell of a treat.

Rhodey presented Natasha with a glass of fruit punch crammed with grapes and cherries, and she hoisted herself out of the pool and took it.

"Stryker's the only one left still whining about us since Steve came on the team," Carol said, sipping her drink. "I can fly and punch through steel and Rhodey's got a built-on tank, but who impresses the public? Some old fogey from the forties," she teased.

"How dare you call Steve a fogey!" Hawkeye added, clutching his chest. From his fingers up to his shoulders he was deep brown; starting at his pectorals he was white from neck to navel.

Like Iron Man, Hawkeye didn't make his identity public, but unlike Iron Man, in private he didn't bother with the mask, and without the narrow goggles that helped augment his already uncanny vision, his eyes were wide and perpetually amused. He sat up and squared his jaw, doing the Captain America impression that always made Jan cackle.

" _I have always tried to stand not just for the American people but for an American way of life that requires a fearless defense of our values,_ " he proclaimed. Steve rubbed his face. He was never going to live that speech down. " _I believe in the values of honesty and equality and compassion, and as the son of immigrants --_ "

"Good god, did you memorize it?" Steve blurted.

"Of course I did, it's a great schtick!" Hawkeye replied. "They'll make kids memorize it in school, I bet. _As the son of immigrants I believe that the diversity of humanity is its strength, and that must necessarily encompass new variations, things people call alien. I am proud to represent America as an Avenger --_ "

"Ah, stuff it, that's enough," Steve said. Tony leaned on the railing next to him, a can of ginger ale in his hand. 

"Look at Steve Rogers, relaxing," he said, grinning sidelong at Steve. "I should take a picture."

"It's a nice day," Steve said, turning his face up to the sun. "You should get yourself in the shot if you can."

"I'm always relaxed."

"Mmhm. I've seen your calendar."

"Work relaxes me," Tony insisted.

"Well, in that case you're the most relaxed person on the planet. You have a three pm with Victor von Doom on Monday, how's that for relaxing?"

"Victor's a prick but he's not actually hard to work with," Tony said. "He wants to rule the world but he keeps tripping on his own ego. We have a steak, we talk geopolitics and robotics, he feels superior, I go home happy that he's not going to try and invade eastern Europe in the next few months. _You're_ harder than Victor von Doom."

"Me?" Steve asked, looking down at him again.

"At least Victor knows how to compromise."

Steve chuckled. "Now you sound like Iron Man. Tony Stark, the great moral relativist of our time."

"One day, Steve, you're going to draw the line in the sand and say ‘come at me', and -- "

"Someone's going to step over it?"

"People step over it all the time," Tony said, shrugging. "You punch them, they fall back. That's not the worry. But you can't punch public opinion or the force of law, even if it's a bad law. Someday you're going to draw a line in the sand and not realize that what's coming at you is a tsunami."

"Well, when that day comes, you can say you told me so," Steve said.

"At this rate, when that day comes, I'll be standing just behind you yelling _Surf's up_ ," Tony grumbled. "You have a way about you, Steve, that gets under the skin of even the greatest moral relativist."

Beyond them, Jan and Carol had gotten into some kind of heated discussion, and the others were applauding; Steve turned to watch as Jan's wings unfurled and Carol lifted a few feet into the air.

"What's going on?" he called.

"Carol says she can gain altitude faster than Jan," Hawkeye replied, crossing to where his bow lay on one of the low cocktail tables on the deck. "We're gonna see who can get to one of my arrows faster."

Carol was faintly aglow with yellow light, and Jan's wings buzzed. It was strange, to be sure, watching them prepare to test the limits of their powers for a lark, but then, some days Steve still wasn't used to how very red the color red could be. He hadn't been able to see it, before the Serum.

"I've got some military-grade binoculars around here somewhere," Tony said, wandering off to dig around in the bar.

Natasha, wringing out her wet hair, murmured "You could not be more obvious," as she passed Steve on her way to the bar.

"Kiss Rhodey for me," he retorted, and she stuck her tongue out at him, but she grinned, too. It had taken her months to say anything to him that wasn't absolutely necessary -- even the email lesson had been mostly her pointing and him figuring it out -- but he'd noticed she was more likely to talk if she knew he'd sass her back.

Hawkeye fired into the air, a tracer-arrow trailing a stream of dark smoke into the sky, and there was a bright flash as Carol and Jan took off after it. Steve watched until they disappeared into the distance. When he looked down, for a split second Tony was watching him, fingers of his left hand drumming thoughtfully on his reactor; as soon as he moved, Tony looked away, offering some offhanded remark to Rhodey, who was filming the competition on his cellphone.

**Author's Note:**

> bookbabe42: ....iron man armor in swim trunks  
> copperbadge: "Iron Man go put your swimsuit on" Iron man returns with trunks on over the armor. Or better, just Iron Man swim trunks and his helmet.   
> copperbadge: Or an old-timey swimsuit, black and white stripes  
> Thewightknight: red and gold stripes, sam  
> bookbabe42: someone hands iron man a martini glass in an effort to trick him into removing his faceplate and CLUNK  
> Thewightknight: he has a straw mode  
> copperbadge: An armored straw emerges from his helmet  
> scifigrl47: "Darling, i"m always prepared to suck."


End file.
